Poets
I grew up with them.
Knew their every way,
All their hidden secrets
Read them every day.Byron, Shelley,
Macaulay, Shakespeare,
Wordsworth and Browning too.Wordsworth was the kid at school
That just seemed to disappear.
He turned up a few days later
But in another year.Macaulay was Manda, my sister’s mate,
Bert and Stevie too.
Shakespeare was “Sugars”,
Shelley the sweet shop,
Browning’s a bit of a blank.Byron is my sister,
Big Mac and the boys,
Tea and ginger biscuits,
Served up with loads of noise.Stuck between Wordsworth and Browning
Was a place called Poets’ Green
Hardly a place for reflection
Where poets sit and dream.What I recall is dog shit,
Jumpers down for goals,
Generally pratting about
And playing “join the crew”Just names on loads of roads,
That I walked down every day.
I still wander down them in my head,
Though I now live miles away.
Inspiration
Why:A reminiscence of the area of Luton I grew up in.
Was it weirdly prophetic that I grew up in the Poets area.
If’ I’d grown up in Lewsey Farm would I now own a combine harvester.
or if in High Town would I be a stilt walker .. who knows.
Publishing information
You are welcome to re-publish excerpts of these poems on a not for profit basis . All I ask is that you please provide a link back to the originating page on this site.
I’d be delighted if you are looking to publish this work or any of these works as a for profit venture please do get in touch for further information.
This page is just one of many poems I have produced. A small selection of which is available on this site.
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